


Bee a Hero

by IcedLemonade



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animals, Bees, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26121100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcedLemonade/pseuds/IcedLemonade
Summary: Bruce Wayne the broody honeybee meets Clark Kent the alien bumblebee under unorthodox situations. Threatened by psychotic humans, global warming, and their dark past, can they manage to work together and maybe save the world in the process?
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The only thing I have to say is to please ignore any scientifically inaccurate descriptions.

It was sunny and warm in Gotham, no different than any other American city in early spring. Under the blanket of endless blue skies, a vast plain speckled with flowers spread to one side. To the other, a light-industrial estate stretched towards the town.

Between the dripping trees an old cobblestone path led into the woods. A man in early middle-age treaded along the path, followed by a younger woman, neat in her working overalls. 

They were beekeepers. The family of Wayne boasts the longest history of bee-farming and also the best quality of honey, unrivaled for decades. 

The couple went further into the woods, where a hive stood camouflaged against the trees. Underneath it, a greying British man sat, staring lovingly at his palm.

The man was intrigued. "Hey Alfie! What are you doing there?"

Alfred snapped out of his trance and quickly stood up, giving the couples a bow. Yet his left hand was kept horizontal, as if something precious was held within it. "Good morning Master Thomas, Miss Martha. Forgive me for not noticing you sooner when you arrived."

Thomas gave a good-natured wave. "It's fine. Though I must say I am curious about what you're doing so close to the beehive. I thought you were afraid of bees?"

"Ah, not anymore, Master Thomas, for I've made a friend." Alfred extended his left hand which had been previously held carefully flat, and showed the couple. Thomas gasped in shock and Martha awwed.

"She's adorable!" Martha cooed, gently prodding the bee which lay on Alfred's palm. Its fur was dyed dark grey with charcoal powder, giving the bee a mysterious shadowy exterior. "What's her name?"

"It's a he, actually," Alfred said, "And I haven't actually thought of a name for him yet... Found him flying around the workbench, dusting the equipment with charcoal powder instead of pollen," He chuckled, "Now you know who's responsible for the dust spillages. I must say, he has quite the fashion sense."

Thomas was still in silent shock from seeing a Wayne bee that's not yellow, but eventually snapped out of his shock. "How the hell did he even do that? Wait, we need to test if the powder is poisonous to him!"

But the bee gave an angry buzz when Thomas attempted to take some of the powder on its body. 

"Don't mess up his fur, can't you see he's spent so long styling it?" Martha admonished. "And by the way, I doubt he'll eat it."

The bee, surprisingly, gave a buzz which sounded like an affirmation. The couple reeled around and stared at it in shock.

Alfred chuckled. "Yeah, he can do that. I have no idea how."

"A bee that can understand us..." Thomas mumbled, "what is in those flowers?"

Martha, however, saw an opportunity and jumped ahead. "Hey bee, since you can understand us, do you have a name?"

The bee buzzed another affirmation.

"See, I told you bees have names for themselves," hissed Martha. Thomas just rolled his eyes. "Can you tell us your name?" She asked the bee.

It buzzed once, curt and deep.

"I'm... not sure I understand bee-speak." She frowned.

"Well what did you expect, my dear?" Thomas muttered. Martha ignored him completely.

The bee buzzed again, which sounded identical to the previous one.

"...I believe he just said his name is Buzz." Alfred joked. "Why not Buzz Wayne? It sounds nice."

The bee buzzed again, but this time it was a long, drawn-out noise of exasperation.

"Yep, Buzz Wayne it is!" Martha clapped her hands together in glee. "Aren't you just the cutest bee ever..." She went back to cooing at the dark bee, which was giving out tiny buzzes of appreciation at her touch, antenna twitching with untold intelligence.

Thomas sighed as his wife dashed back to the barn, undoubtedly to grab some honey and charcoal powder. Work was going to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce flew off shortly after the female human left, ignoring the others' shouts of disappointment. His stomach was churning with hunger, trying to converse with humans had been much more tiring than he'd originally thought. He grimaced at his newly given human name, Buzz. It sounded so generic, like any other name for an ordinary honeybee. 

He zipped through the meadows, soft petals and grass whipping at his face, until he finally found his favourite patch of flowers, a group of bat orchids clustered near the fence. Other bees were terrified of the flower, for it looked like a disfigured ogre-faced spider with menacing tendrils. But the nectar was nice. For Bruce, at least.

Without thinking twice, he plunged into the centre of the dark flower, not caring if the powder on his fur would be rubbed away. He burrowed with clear intent into the flower, straight into where he knew sweet nectar lay, and sucked vigorously when he'd found it. 

He repeated the cycle with every flower in the cluster until he's full and satisfied. He was just about to leave when a blue line streaked through his vision.

And was shoved none too gently off the flower, landing onto the grass in a heap.

Bruce glared up at the offender, who was happily nudging his way into the bat orchids. _His_ bat orchids, which he'd defended tirelessly from other bees who dared set foot in _his_ territory.

Bruce's engines roared to life as he lifted up into the air, silently glaring at the offender. That usually works for most bees, his glare was enough to scare away even spiders. Unfortunately, the offender, a greyish blue bumblebee with messy fur, continued to drink greedily at the flower, making loud and obscene noises with his tongue.

Bruce sighed and cracked his joints. Time to teach another bee its proper place. 

He zoomed towards the bumblebee, knocking him off his feet and sending both of them spiraling towards the ground. Bruce pulled up at the last second while the bumblebee hurtled towards the ground.

Astonishingly, he recovered in no time and went straight for Bruce with an impossible speed. The wind was knocked out of him as he crashed into Bruce, then with an equally impossible strength, grabbed his legs and swung him around like a bola, before finally letting go, leaving Bruce spinning into the fence. Something cracked, and he blacked out immediately upon impact.

The bumblebee went back to the flowers, seemingly undisturbed, and began to suck on the flowers noisily once more.

Slowly but surely, Bruce woke to pain and confusion. He was lying at the bottom of a rain-washed fence, surrounded by the noisy slurping of the intruding bumblebee's feeding. Anger washed over him as he remembered what happened, but was quickly overtaken by panic as he realized that one of his wing latch was damaged from the impact.

He growled and shook his wings furiously as if that would repair his broken wing. It only made the pain worse. His panic increased ten-fold as he realized that the skies were darkening. It was going to rain. 

Frantically, Bruce scanned any shelter within reach, as being out in a thunderstorm could mean the end for his life. The only sufficient shelter he could see was the beekeeper's cabin, and that was a few hundred meters away. Impossible to reach by foot.

He was just about to bang his antennas on the ground in frustration when the blue bumblebee returned, hovering above him, head cocked in curiosity.

Bruce wanted to tear him apart right on the spot. "Here to gloat, asshole?"

The bumblebee blinked in surprise at Bruce's hostility. "What?"

Bruce sighed and turned away. "You took my flowers and my flight. Do you want to take my pride as well?"

"Wha-no!" The bumblebee's antenna bobbed furiously. "I want to help you! It's about to rain and your wings are broken so..."

Bruce glanced at him. Somehow the bumblebee didn't sound like the rude one from earlier. Every insect has their own unique wing hum, and this one sounded somewhat different. He squinted. His fur was blue, bluer than anything he'd known. His fur was well-styled and tousled to make his look as fluffy as possible. Nothing like the messy and wind-blown bumblebee who attacked him.

"Sorry for assuming, it's just that someone who looked like you made me like this earlier." Bruce said.

The bumblebee's antenna shot up. "Oh god, that must be Bizzaro! I've been chasing him all day but lost track of him. He's my...uh... brother."

"Oh." Was all the reaction that Bruce could give.

"Come here, I'll give you a lift." The bumblebee took his hands and flipped Bruce onto his back, making sure not to crush his wings, then locked all six of his hands with Bruce's. "I'll fly us over to the cabin."

"You're strong." Bruce remarked once they're in the air. 

That earned him a grin in reply. "So I've been told. Name's Clark by the way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes bat orchids are real and they are the most horrifying flowers I've ever seen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Bruce and Clark are solitary bees, so they don't live in a colony.  
> Solitary male bees also can't make honey. Let's just say that Bruce learned the art of honey-making himself (beecause even as a bee he's an overachiever) and Clark is an alien bee so tedious Earth rules doesn't apply to him.

Clark ended up taking Bruce back to his nest, a long and narrow tunnel branching off into several oval rooms, with the largest one in the centre. Clark called it the "me-room". Heaps of shredded wood woven with cotton lie in the left corner, decorated with an assortment of fragrant leaves.

"I know it's not much, but treat yourself! Honey is down the corridor in the third room." Clark sped off as soon as he deposited Bruce in the fluffy cotton bed, leaving him in awe of the spotless state of the nest.

He wondered where Clark may have gone off to, but was distracted by the overpowering smell of honey down the corridors. Like a moth drawn to a flame, his feet moved unconsciously to transport him over to the infamous honey room.

And stopped abruptly, remembering that he barely knew this bee. All this could be a set-up for all he knew. That Bizarro could have crippled his wings on purpose just for Clark to swoop by and play the hero, therefore gaining his trust and making it easier to get to him. Bruce pondered this disturbing thought for a brief moment, feet hovering above the entrance to the honey room. Then suddenly remembered that since he wouldn't be able to fly anytime soon, he'd have to rely entirely on Clark.

His antenna trembled in anger. He was so stupid! He never should have accepted help from Clark in the first place. Now he's trapped here, with no way out except falling 10 meters from a tree which would surely break his legs as well.

But then, something about that fluffy bumblebee told him that he was overthinking. Clark seemed genuine in wanting to help him.

Bruce grimaced, looks can be deceiving, after all.

Reluctantly, he took a tiny sip from one of the honey containers. It tasted completely normal. Sweet with a tiny tang of the flower's signature flavour.

Still, just to be safe, he went around taking tiny samples of every container around the room, but couldn't help but take a large bite out of the pollen cakes. It has been ages since he'd last eaten.

Bruce was just about to devour the entire cake when a familiar buzzing took his attention. Clark was returning from god-knows-where.

He stepped back into the me-room and found Clark surrounded by a mysterious new pile of wood-chips and cotton. He raised a metaphorical eyebrow.

"I thought it was raining outside?"

"Well, bumblebees are known to be more resilient to rain," Clark grinned, "So, this is your bed, I guess. How would you like me to arrange them?"

Bruce has barely computed that Clark went _flying_ in a thunderstorm, then realized that he'd risked his life and gathered the materials just for him. No one had ever been this nice to him, especially not a bee who he'd just met. "Uh... however you like," He said.

Clark frowned. "Would you like it more compact or loose?"

"I... am not sure. I've never slept on anything besides leaves."

Clark gasped in horror. "LeAVeS? But they have zero insulation! You can't even burrow into a leaf!"

"Well..." Bruce watched in fascination as Clark began to furiously mould the pile of wood-chips and fluff into a circular shape. "It worked for me."

"You're seriously missing out..." Clark said through a mouthful of cotton. "Use my bed for the time being. I'll get yours done in no time!"

True to his word, what was originally a messy pile of wood-chips, cotton, and vine became a comfortable and warm bed in under 2 minutes. Bruce could have sworn he saw Clark blur into a fuzzy blue blob a few times, but blamed it on his exhaustion instead. Clark was still talking animatedly about the texture of Bruce's new bed, of how comfortable it would be to burrow inside. He wanted to listen, but the room was warm and dark, and the bed was soft.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beeeeees…
> 
> Thanks for all the support so far! I originally intended it to be a short crack fic, but Bee!AU is just too much fun to write.

_The boy grinned wickedly, glass cup in hand, covered by a sheet of old newspaper. Inside the cup, three bees were spinning around frantically, their panicked buzzes coming in short bursts._

_"I've always wanted to see what would happen..." He mumbled and took out a canister of insect spray in his back pocket. Carefully, he lifted the newspaper cover so that a small opening appeared, and thrust the mouth of the spray can in, covering the small opening before the bees could escape._

_The bees stopped their spinning to simultaneously stare at the spray can. Two of them then stared at each other, their antenna flicking around wildly as if in communication. Then, without warning, they tackled the smaller bee to the ground, shielding it with their bodies._

_Just when the boy pressed down on the handle._

_To his disappointment, nothing interesting really happened except for the bees twitching and writhing in pain as the poison slowly seeped into their bodies, shutting down their internal systems one by one. Soon, the bees were nothing more than three unmoving dots piled on top of each other._

_He huffed and decided to get back to his friend who told him that bees explode into fireworks when sprayed with insecticide. The glass cup was dumped onto the grass, forgotten._

* * *

Bruce snapped awake with a sharp inhale, and saw Clark looking down at him, eyes round with concern.

He ran a clammy hand over his face. "Sorry. Bad dream."

"You were screaming," Clark frowned, "Is everything ok? I can get some herbal leaves for you."

 _No, it's not ok, it's never ok._ Bruce gave a huge sigh and slumped back into bed, trying to even out his breathing by staring at the wall. There was a tuff of fur stuck to Clark's mandible from his construction work earlier. It was... endearing in a way.

"I'm ok," Bruce said, looking away. Agreeing with someone was the best way to cut an unwanted conversation short. "Sorry for waking you."

Clark frowned deeper, not at all convinced by Bruce's answer, but decided not to pester him further. "Alright, just tell me if you need anything."

"I will." He won’t.

Bruce turned onto his side, away from Clark's concerned stare from the opposite wall, and willed himself back to sleep, back into the dark territory of nightmares.

* * *

Clark was nowhere to be seen the next morning he woke up, but a neatly written note besides his bed told Bruce all that he needed to know about his whereabouts. The idiot was apparently out collecting nectar, even though he has enough honey to last them for the rest of the year. Why did a bumblebee make honey anyways?

 _Might as well explore the place a bit,_ Bruce thought. He stretched his legs and shook out his wings. They were somewhat healed by the rest he got last night, but nowhere near flying condition yet.

He hopped off the comfy bed and strolled around the nest, taking some time to appreciate the spacious and well-maintained space. He himself didn't even have a nest, preferring to stay in the bat-pestered cave near Wayne Farm instead. It was wet and moldy, but it deters other animals. Perfect for keeping out unwanted attention.

And it was not far from a factory, where he could easily obtain some coal powder to dye himself grey. That is, if he didn't suffocate first before getting inside.

With a jolt of realization, Bruce realized that the powder on his body has all but gone, leaving his sharp yellow bands visible again. There was also a messy spot of dark powder on his bed, in a shape suspiciously like his rear.

Blushing furiously, he dashed over and tried rubbing the powder off, but managed to get it all over his eyes instead. To add to his misfortune, Clark decided that now was a good time to return.

Bruce spun around, covering the spot with his thorax, before realizing that Clark was stuck at the door because he was carrying too much nectar. Hastily, he flipped the bed upside down, just in time for Clark to crash into the room.

He landed onto a pile of leaves with an _oof_. "Sorry about that," He grinned sheepishly, "But the Bat-orchids were really a mouthful."

Bruce's antenna twitched rapidly, "Bat-orchids?" He echoed.

"Yeah! They're your favorite, right? And since you're not fit to forage yet I thought I could bring you some of their nectar," Clark said, "I have to say, they are some pretty.../unconventional/ looking flowers, but the nectar is surprisingly good! I wonder how it'll taste when I make it into honey..."

Bruce stared at him. Somehow, the part of his brain which was suspicious of Clark still won't stop blabbering, but the distinctive astringent smell of his favorite nectar was taking over the room, originating from Clark, and that made the blabbering cease a bit.

He didn't even realize that Clark was starting to talk to him when he heard something shuffling. Clark was shifting uncomfortably on his feet, round eyes desperate to seek Bruce's approval.

"Sorry- I didn't catch that." Bruce said, and like a recoiled spring, Clark sprang back to life almost instantly.

"Oh! I was just asking if you'd like a sip before I move them to the honey room?"

"I..." Bruce wasn't even sure if the feeding methods of bumblebees are compatible with honeybees, but he was too hungry to care. "... sure."

Instead of dipping his head to Bruce's and regurgitating the nectar like how most bees feed, Clark pulled out a small cup made of paper from- Bruce was still confused on what the rug was made of- the ground and transferred the nectar into the cup. He handed it over with a small smile.

"Drink up!" He said, buzzing in excitement, as if he was the one drinking his favorite nectar, not Bruce.


	5. Chapter 5

The day passed by leisurely. Bruce would take a sip from the cup every now and then while exploring Clark’s nest. It seemed to go on forever. Tunnels would branch off into more tunnels, which led to yet even more tunnels leading to God-knows-where.

He was prompted to draw a map of the layout somewhere, but that means he needed to steal some ink from the Wayne farmers, and he couldn’t fly yet.

He grumbled and tugged at his wings. They were healing faster than usual due to Clark’s delicate spider web bandages mixed with herbal extract, but not fast enough. He has stuff to do: start working out again, get his fur dyed back to grey, visit Alfred…

Well, at least he could work out now, just no wing exercises for the time being.

He went down a dimly lit corridor where he was certain Clark wouldn’t frequent and picked the most inconspicuous room. Hopefully Clark would take the hint and leave him alone. He kicked the cork door close.

There was no equipment here, unlike his “nest” in the cave which has rocks everywhere for weightlifting and stalactites to practice parkour on. He’ll just have to do the basics then.

He took a deep breath. Held it for as long as physically possible, and slowly let it out, while keeping his antenna vertically straight. Then with a swift kick of his back legs, his abdomen left the ground entirely, leaving only his two front arms balancing his entire body.

Bruce inhaled slowly, feeling the changes in the center of gravity, and adjusted accordingly. His wings were pulled flat against his body, and his four legs vertically straight in the air without the slightest tremble. When his balance stabilized, he lifted one of his arms, leaving only one arm on the ground supporting his weight.

And stayed at this position for half an hour, all the while meditating about flowers and pollen.

Every sound in the nest seemed amplified as he meditated. He could hear the nectar evaporating into honey, the freed water particles striking the air as lively melodic chords. Leaves rustled about in the main chamber, circulating dust around the room. The tree which the nest was in sighed slowly, removing carbon dioxide and replacing it with freshly made oxygen. Bruce could almost hear the walls moving and creaking with every exhalation.

He was at peace.

Then Clark suddenly gave a muffled _grunt_ at the end of the corridor, ending the peace and tranquility abruptly. Bruce sighed and got back onto the ground, stretching his legs to loosen them up a bit. He eased open the door and peered outside.

Another grunt, this time accompanied by sounds of stuff being knocked over. Bruce winced as the corridor rumbled and shook, the fragile parts in the walls ripping upon stress. Sensing an emergency, he rushed out into the bedroom.

Clark was wrestling with a greyish blue bumblebee almost his own size on the ground, trying to pin him down. The other bumblebee responded by biting Clark’s antenna, chewing on it with as much force as he could muster. The pair rolled around on the ground, scattering leaves and getting entangled with all the silk and cobwebs in the room. Dust and pollen flew around chaotically, looking like fairy dust as light reflected off them.

Adrenaline flaring, Bruce jumped on top of the pair, scrabbling to get a hold on the rouge bumblebee, his claws slipping harmlessly off polished cuticle. But finally, he managed to sink a claw into the knee joint and held on for dear life as the bee gave a sharp buzz of pain and began tossing them around.

“Hold him! I’ll try to knock him out!” Clark gritted as he struggled to gain a suitable leverage point. Bruce grunted as the trio rolled across the ground, almost crushing his feet in the process. The rouge bumblebee was strong even for his huge size, and it took everything for Bruce to not get flung across the room.

After several painful and dizzying minutes, the intruder finally started to tire with the combined forces of both bees. His struggling slowed and weakened; his hands stopped clawing at their faces. A well-timed bite at the thorax joint from Clark knocked him out completely.

Bruce disentangled himself from the mess, shaking out his fur to get rid of the sudden unprompted itch, then immediately collapsed onto the ground, exhausted from all the exertion. He watched Clark with a bleary eye.

Clark looked absolutely bashful. “Well, I guess this is as good a time for introductions as any other. This is Bizarro, the bee who attacked you earlier.”

“I figured,” Bruce said, eyeing the immobile blue blob on the floor. “He really does look like you.”

Clark’s antenna hung in embarrassment. “He’s… not actually my brother. He’s, well… you can say that he’s a science experiment gone wrong.”

“Literally?”

“Yes.”

Bruce took in Clark’s posture, his slumped form, drooped wings and dejected face. He seemed keen on not being associated to his “brother”, and Bruce could understand why. They were complete opposites personality-wise; Bizarro was an asshole while Clark was…

He blinked, suddenly realizing that Clark’s body was completely unscathed after the fight. Even though he played the major role in subduing Bizarro and must have sustained injuries from his vicious kicks and clawing, his cuticle remained perfect and shinning, not even the slightest scratch could be seen. His fur was a bit tousled, but not a single tuff was missing.

Instead of being barely able to stand and bleeding everywhere, Clark was fidgeting in his place nervously, having caught Bruce’s staring. Specks of fur and pollen still clung to his fur, but in the filtered sunshine, the warm lighting shone off his well-polished thorax and outlined his fluffy blue fur with golden, and in that moment, he appeared ethereal.

“I’ll just… um… take him inside and… seal him in wax I guess.” Clark stuttered, starting to blush furiously. He grabbed Bizarro hurriedly and dragged him into one of the corridors, never struggling once in the entire trip. Bruce wondered distractedly the strength of those arms.


End file.
